There's a reason I'm not a poet

I haven’t written on here in a while cause I’ve been having fun on placement and finishing off reading Worm. But I’ve decided to dedicate this post to the entity that is Drunk Michael.

So you know that old trope of having an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other? Well I always feel like if you get a few drinks on me the burden of the alcohol isn’t exactly shared equally between my two advocates. While the angel is passed out from how much of a lightweight he is, the devil is shaving off the angel’s eyebrows and stealing his phone to text everyone in the phonebook in exactly the most embarrassing way possible.

My drunk self really likes the idea of Sober Michael waking up in the morning and encountering that all-too-familiar sense of dread when he sees a few messages in his inbox along the lines of “What the hell is wrong with you” or “I had no idea you felt that way please stop contacting me”. Drunk Michael knows exactly who to text to make my life awkward, and exactly what to say to maximise embarrassment.

The worst part of it all is that my phone (Kevin) only stores a certain number of sent messages, say the last ten. So Drunk Michael takes advantage of the free texts, and makes sure to send a significantly larger number of texts than ten. This means that Sober Michael just has to wait for the fallout to find out exactly what Mr Hyde has done.

I was on the steamboat last night, so this morning wasn’t a fun experience when browsing my sent messages. Thankfully I’ve only had a few this evening, so I should be able to keep the monster in line.

I think basically the take-home message from all of this is that I should never be allowed near big red buttons.